


reality is two sides of the same coin

by zxrysky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Dreamscapes, Face your demons, Galra Tech Gone Wrong, M/M, Persona-esque, Shadows (Persona Series), everyone cries, struggling with accepting themselves and their roles in voltron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 17:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19114087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: “Let me get this straight.” Keith holds up a hand when Shiro opens his mouth, shaking his head. “Don’t interrupt me, Shiro.”He levels a long, considering look at Allura. Her fingers are twisting knots into her skirt, worry coloring her face. She’s so pale that her cheek highlights actually look luminescent. Coran doesn’t look much better, with a droopy mustache and eyebags so big they could be marketed as luxurious goods in Milan’s next fashion show.“We all agreed to try this mind thing because Altean warriors used to do it to strengthen themselves. Confront their inner demons. Know thyself before thy enemy and all that. But then somehow - somehow, Galra tech gets mixed in. And this Galra tech is, of course, corrupted.” Keith feels the urge to put his head in his hands. “How did this happen again?”





	reality is two sides of the same coin

**Author's Note:**

> commission for obstinaterixatrix on tumblr! thank you so much and i hope you liked it <3

He has a pounding headache. It starts at the back of his neck, radiating through his skull and pressing against his eyelids like a bright light pulsing before his eyes. He reaches up to drape a hand across his face, fingers skating lightly over his fluttering eyelids and putting pressure against his temples.

 

Keith winces. There’s a throbbing pain in his shoulders, as if he got his ass kicked five ways into next week - but he hasn’t worked out at all. Not recently, at least, because they had a tactical meeting with Allura and Coran on how to tackle the Galra’s half-assed murder plans before Lance made them all do team bonding by playing cards.

 

 _Cards_ , of all things. He didn’t think he would ever be in a position to watch Pidge teach a member of a royal alien family how to count cards, but Keith watched all his figurative money (in other words, chore duty) disappear to Allura’s delighted face and her growing stack of I.O.U.s.

 

Maybe the strain in his shoulders is the thought of shouldering everyone’s chores for the next week and a half, he thinks blearily, trying to sit up. Sure, he’s sharing it with Lance - which is actually _great_ , but he’d die before admitting it to the boy - but that doesn’t make doing chores an attractive prospect. He doesn’t actually know how to use the laundry machine, or whatever passes for a laundry machine in the castle.

 

Then he presses the flat of his palm against the floor and stills. It doesn’t - the feel of rough, grainy wood is familiar beneath his hand, but it isn’t smooth, cold metal. The entire castle is made of alien technology that thinks wood is beneath them; there isn’t a single room in the castle with wooden flooring.

 

Keith swallows tightly, trying to slow his heartbeat going mad in his chest, and chances a glance down.

 

Wooden tiles line the floor, bursting at the edges and threatening to take his eye out with a well placed splinter. He drags his gaze further along the floor - empty instant noodle cups are haphazardly stacked, chopsticks randomly dumped in a tiny paper bag that’s tipped over, papers with messy handwriting is strewn across the floor and there’s a single, low table sitting quietly before him.

 

His breath catches in his throat. This is his- this is his old place. Before Shiro came back. Before Voltron. Before all the alien spaceship mess and the gigantic sentient lions decided to take over his life.

 

He blinks, and the stone in his throat is very difficult to swallow around.

 

“You’re late. Busy night?” Keith’s head snaps around at that voice. It’s strange to hear it, something that sounds so familiar but can’t possibly exist. It sounds like _him_ , like someone recorded his sarcastic voice and mixed it up in a computer to make it a little lower, a little tetchier, a little more impatient than he usually sounds.

 

The boy sitting on the broken couch that’s more beanbag than sofa raises an eyebrow at him, and his lips settle into a faint scowl.

 

It almost makes Keith want to burst into hysterical laughter. “Ah,” he says anyways, barely suppressing a choked giggle. “A dream, right?”

 

Looking straight at the boy is like staring into a goddamn mirror. It’s incredibly unnerving. He looks exactly but Keith but - he can’t quite describe it. Somehow he looks more put together. His jacket is ironed, his belt is neatly straightened on his hip, his shoes look brand new and his eyes are yellow.

 

“Colored contacts?” Keith asks before he can stop himself. Then he thinks, there’s no reason to stop himself, because this is a dream that’s strangely lucid, and what can his doppelganger do to him anyways?

 

The superstition that seeing one’s doppelganger in person means they’ll die in three days suddenly pops into his mind, and Keith tries not to break out in a cold sweat. Stuff like that doesn’t apply in dreams, right?

 

“Not contacts,” his reflection replies, and crosses one leg over the other. Seeing him on the couch while Keith is barely sitting straight on the floor makes it feel like the boy is lording over him. It makes something tighten in his chest. It’s _strange_. “Do you miss this place?”

 

“What?” It’s such an abrupt question that Keith is taken aback for a moment. Of course he doesn’t miss this place, it was a sorry excuse of a shack that he was forced to live in because he was kicked out of the Garrison. Six months of living off sodium and wax and maybe rainwater all to find Shiro - this shack hoards nothing but terrible, lonely memories.

 

He opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again. “Yeah,” he sighs after a while in reply, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “I miss it.”

 

“Things were easier back then,” the boy agrees, and Keith bristles at that quick admission. Was it easier back then? He wouldn’t _say_ it was exactly easier, but -- there might be some merit to it, he realises with a gulp.

 

It wasn’t easier, but it was better. It was something he knew like the back of his hand. Loneliness is an old friend hiding in the darkness of every place he stays in, and the people flitting in and out of his life can’t compare to it.

 

“It’s nice now,” he shoots back sourly. “Back then all I had was my shadow and four walls. Now I have Shiro, Hunk, Pidge - I guess Allura and Coran too? And I have-” Keith stutters, barely avoiding biting down on his tongue, “I have Lance. I have _Lance_.”

 

If he says it enough, pushing enough emotion into it, maybe he can convince himself. But his reflection raises a judgemental eyebrow and makes Keith think the boy sitting before him knows exactly how much bullshit he’s trying to throw out.

 

The boy rolls his shoulders, stretching his neck as if gearing up for a fight. Keith doesn’t look forward to finding out what fighting himself must feel like. Or if this reflection is some powered up version of him - with yellow eyes and a smile that seems way too sharp for a normal human, Keith’s willing to bet his reflection isn’t all human.

 

“Well, I think you should leave before you hurt yourself even further.” His eyes glitter in the dim light filtering in from the holes in the walls. It’s suddenly hard to focus on his silhouette.

 

Keith doesn’t know what’s going on with his heart, but it can’t be good. It’s jackknifing away in his chest and sounds so loud it’s almost deafening. “ _What_ are you saying? You mean I should give up and come back to Earth or something? Come back to the Garrison that kicked me out because they were trying to cover up some conspiracy about Shiro?”

 

He manages a laugh, sarcastic and self-deprecating, rolling his eyes at the boy on the sofa. It’s either stupid bravado or simple insanity, but Keith makes the decision to stuff his nerves into a box and shove it away to settle later.

 

It’s a dream, anyways. What can this joke of a reflection with shiny yellow eyes do to him?

 

“You don’t know anything.” It comes out as an aggressive snarl. The boy says it with undisguised fury, biting at the edges.

 

Something rears up in Keith’s brain, a remnant from his ancestors that easily recognised when danger was staring them in the face. A signal that told him to run. To run and hide and pray for help because he was looking a predator in the eye and he wasn’t armed.

 

“You’re trapping yourself here.” His reflection breaks into a smile that shows too many teeth. “What’s going to happen to you when it all goes wrong? You’re gonna be stuck here in space with nowhere to run to.”

 

His heart thunders in his chest. This is - a really strange situation. It’s so _weird_. He shouldn’t be afraid. It’s exactly like what Shiro used to say, that things could only hurt him if he let them. Especially so if they’re all in his head.

 

Just like this eerie boy making himself at home in Keith’s old house and tearing out everything he’s tried to stow away in his mind.

 

“I would _not_ -”

 

“Face it. You _would_. And this castle is very, very big.” There’s _glee_ in his tone, Keith realises, breath stuttering in his throat. The boy is actually taking some sort of sadistic pleasure from seeing Keith shake apart at his biting words. “I’m sure you can find somewhere to hide where no one will ever find you again. Maybe it’d be better for everyone involved. It’s not like you actually know how to deal with people that don’t leave, anyways.”

 

“ _Stop_ it!” Keith yells, scrambling to his feet and towering over his reflection, fingers clenched into tight fists. His chest heaves with every desperate breath he pulls into his lungs, and his eyes feel hot. His nails dig into the flesh of his palms and the pain keeps him grounded. As grounded as he can get, stuck in a mind prison of his old home and facing off against some doppelganger demon.

 

“Why?” The boy asks, leaning forward and tipping his head up. It’s like he’s being cruel for _fun_. He sounds like one of those irritating children who keep asking for explanations for everything when they don’t have the mental capacity to understand anything. “You know I’m right.”

 

Keith’s bottom lips trembles. “I came here because I wanted to find Shiro. I owed him that. And now I’ve been chosen, so I have a duty to help serve the universe. And these people- they’re good people. They won’t leave me. Not like that.”

 

For some reason that he can’t place, the words sound empty, even to himself. They sound like - excuses. Like reasons he’s throwing out just to placate his insecure heart.

 

“Anyone can be chosen to replace you!” His reflection yells, slamming a hand against the armrest. At this height, Keith can see the way the light plays over his face, the way his incisors look sharper than they have any right to, the way Keith’s form casts a shadow over the boy’s body and it looks as if he’s _melting_ into it.

 

The boy doesn’t have a shadow, Keith suddenly thinks. The darkness seamlessly settles over him like a second skin instead of draping like a blanket. It’s unnatural.

 

And his words hit _hard_.

 

Keith isn’t sure what sort of face he’s making right now, but it can’t be good. His eyes are wet with something he refuses to acknowledge, and the boy in front of him looks satisfied. Like he’s some cruel demon living in Keith’s mind that’s finally gotten enough power to drag out that box of insecurities Keith’s been trying so hard to hide away, and now he’s forcing it out into the dim light and reading them off one by one.

 

He drags in one long, shaky breath, and the reflection opens his mouth again.

 

“And why are you so hung up about Shiro?” The boy barrages on, breaking into a nasty grin. Like a kid who doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions, so he skips through everything else and lands straight on cruel. “You think he’s so _special_ , don’t you? So indebted to the man who helped raise you. So desperate to believe in him that you created this whole mess for those three poor students who had bright futures in the Garrison.”

 

Keith is going to _punch_ his reflection, bad luck be damned-

 

“He _left_ you, Keith. He left you once, and he’ll do it again. Don’t the important people in our life always seem to leave us? Maybe it’s us. Maybe we _make_ them want to leave us,” the boy coos, eyes crinkling the way Keith knows he does when he breaks into a smile. “A weakling who doesn’t know what to do when his comfort blankets are taken away from him.”

 

Did he- he said ‘our’, didn’t he?

 

“Please,” Keith forces out, too disorientate to think about the meaning behind the sudden change in pronouns and drops his gaze. He can’t listen to this anymore, he _can’t_. Is it so wrong to want to hold on to the one person who trusted in him? He hasn’t had anything for a long time, the longest time he can ever remember, and Shiro is the one person he could trust.

 

He didn’t _mean_ to drag Lance, Pidge and Hunk into it. He didn't even want them involved in the whole thing. He told them to go _home_ , for god’s sake, and to let him handle Shiro by himself. But Lance insisted Shiro was his hero too, and Pidge and Hunk wouldn’t leave Lance by himself (and _oh_ , how jealous Keith is); their bleeding hearts would be the end of them.

 

“Everyone leaves,” the boy counters, smugness radiating from his entire frame. As if he’s won the figurative fight between them. Through his blurry vision, Keith can suddenly understand why Lance once said he hated Keith’s status as a cocky pilot genius. It’s _irritating_. “Might as well save yourself the heartache and not get attached.”

 

“I don’t want to,” he says, and pretends it didn’t come out as a wet sob, catching on his lips. “I want to _stay_.”

 

 _Stay strong, Keith_ , something yells at him inside his brain. Whatever’s left of his brain, perhaps, making a last ditch attempt to stabilize his emotions. _Don’t give in_.

 

“Why stay when you can leave and protect yourself?” The reflection asks. He sounds honestly curious, and that makes it worse.

 

 _He’s wrong_ , the voice retaliates, and Keith wants to yell at them both to shut up and let him wallow in the emotional trenches he’s sunk to. _It’s not like that. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about._

 

His head hurts so, _so_ much, and maybe the boy is right. Maybe yellow-eyed Keith knows what’s up. Maybe he’s the one to be blamed for the entire space mess they’re in, and the Garrison trio could still be back at the Garrison living their carefree lives, and Keith is the one who pulled them all into his stupid orbit that’s inching closer to a supernova every passing second.

 

It’s just so easy to give in, even if the voice in his head is telling him not to.

 

“I’m _sorry_ , okay?” It bursts out of him like a prayer, thinly veiled sobs lining the words. “I didn’t _mean_ to. I didn’t!”

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that it happened and that it’s your fault. Maybe you should just stay here, and not go back to make things worse for them,” the boy replies, so smug that Keith would go over and smack it off his face if he didn’t feel like falling apart right now, and the shack starts to shake.

 

_Keith, just hold on-_

 

Like there’s an earthquake racing through the desert, rippling through the ground like a wave and making everything in Keith’s house tremble.

 

Keith’s shaking so much he almost doesn’t notice, but his reflection straightens abruptly, eyes widening. Keith can barely make out through his messed up vision that the boy looks almost _shocked_.

 

“What?” His reflection asks, voice suddenly going high with surprise, fingers digging into Keith’s already mutilated couch. Keith blinks, and his vision glitches, making the fingers look more like claws gouging deep marks into his sofa. He blinks again and the small light bulb almost knocks him in the head, but the boy only has fingers with bitten nails now, just like Keith.

 

The earthquake stops as suddenly as it began, and his reflection starts to relax back into the couch, ready to start digging into Keith again as he stands there and _takes_ it, because it’s all true and he can’t do anything about it-

 

The door is wrenched open. It flies off, hinges creaking brokenly as it lands somewhere far with a distant crash. Tension runs through both of them like lightning; he can see the reflection stiffen in the corner of his eye, jaw tensing.

 

“Keith?”

 

“Oh my god,” Keith says immediately, with as much feeling he can pour into those three short words. It feels like he’s been bursting at the rim for far too long and now the catalyst is here. He’s overflowing. He’s tipping over and there is too much waiting to be poured out of him.

 

Sunlight pours in through the new hole in his house and casts a dark shadow across the figure standing in the doorway.

 

It’s _Shiro_.

 

“Go away,” he mumbles brokenly, hands flying up to wipe at his eyes. Dream-Shiro or not, the last time he’s cried in front of someone else - who coincidentally, _was_ Shiro - was years ago. Back when he was still a kid.

 

Sobbing in front of his reflection who looks like he wouldn’t mind throwing down is very different from breaking down in front of Shiro.

 

The large gulps of air he’s desperately trying to inhale doesn’t help much. His breath still stutters in his throat in stops and starts, and he didn’t think it was possible to choke this much on air but it appears the human body is capable of much more than he had originally imagined.

 

Keith stumbles over, flapping a weak wrist at Shiro’s frame. “Get _out_.”

 

He doesn’t want Shiro to see him like this. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. God, Lance isn’t going to pop up behind Shiro like a knight in shining armour, is he? Even if Keith wants very much to swoon into someone’s arms with how weak his knees are, he doesn’t want to see _anyone_.

 

Shiro lifts his hands up in surrender. “Keith, it’s _okay_ now, I’m here-”

 

“You’re _never_ here!” Keith shouts with his reflection, hands balling into trembling fists. He doesn’t have enough sense of mind right now to reflect on why he’s so in sync with the boy on the couch who looks like he’s about to fly off and start punching someone. “You went off to Keberos because you _wanted_ to and then you never came back and maybe he’s _right_ , you know?!”

 

He points a finger accusingly at the reflection sitting on the sofa, who’s blinking in apparent surprise.

 

“I’m right?” The boy asks, voice high with shock. Then he blinks, nodding, and stands next to Keith, shoulder to shoulder, as if they were twins from the very beginning. “Yeah. I’m _right_.”

 

“No, you shut up too!” Keith yells, turning to face the reflection. There’s anger in him, building up from some place deep inside his chest and spilling out like molten lava. The shakiness remains, but the tremor in his voice is because he’s angry now, not terrified. “You- I don’t know who you are or how you know these things, but you keep _saying_ them like they’re no big deal when I don’t want to admit them. You just rip them out and throw them in my face, and what’s your problem?!

 

“ _Yes_ , I want to be alone; _yes_ , I’m scared out of my mind that I’m going to be left alone even though it’s what I want and _yes_ , I say I want to be left alone but I _don’t_ _actually want that_ \- I don’t need you repeating it all for me!” The words come out of him in a rush, tripping over each other in the hurry to escape his mouth.

 

“Keith. It’ll be okay.”

 

Keith wants to _slap_ Shiro. “How would you know?!”

 

Shiro takes a step into the house, and the entire place shakes. The boy flickers in the corner of Keith’s eye - he turns around, and his reflection looks two-dimensional. He looks flat and unassuming, a black mass curling over his shoulder and draping across his chest, and then he looks like Keith’s twin all over again.

 

“Because I know you,” Shiro says quietly, drawing Keith’s attention back to him. “You said it yourself. You don’t want to be alone.”

 

“It’s all we’ve ever known,” the reflection answers for them, voice distorted. “How can we trust anyone? It’s better to leave than to be left.”

 

“It’s better to be _loved_ ,” Shiro insists, reaching out to grip Keith’s shoulder. His eyes slide between Keith and the boy, as if unsure who to focus on. “Don’t hide yourself. Everyone leaves in the end, it’s true, but we’ll be here as long as we can. We’re here because we _want_ to be.”

 

The tears burn bright hot against his cheeks, dripping onto his shirt and leaving dark grey stains. Keith tastes salt against the corner of his lips, a bittersweet taste unravelling inside of him, and he feels tired all at once. He feels _so_ tired.

 

“I want to stay,” he mumbles, tongue heavy. “I don’t want any of you to go. I don’t want to be left behind.”

 

He thinks of tan skin and bright eyes, a laughter piercing through the quiet of space, fingers full of calluses from guitar strings dragging at his wrist.

 

Shiro’s grip tightens. “You won’t be.”

 

Keith might be hallucinating, but suddenly the shack seems brighter. He feels a little lighter. His heart isn’t as weary as it was just a few minutes ago. It’s as if he’s cried himself empty.

 

“I can trust you, right?” He swallows, mouth dry. “I can trust all of you.”

 

He can feel the boy’s eyes on him. “Maybe you can,” the reflection says slowly, wondrously. Like he’s finally starting to believe it. The light turns harsher, like it’s sped up all the way from daybreak to high noon, when the sun is swollen in the sky. It’s bright. Really bright. “Maybe you can, after all.”

 

Keith blinks, and wakes up in a pod.

 

-=-

 

“Let me get this straight.” Keith holds up a hand when Shiro opens his mouth, shaking his head. “Don’t interrupt me, Shiro.”

 

He levels a long, considering look at Allura. Her fingers are twisting knots into her skirt, worry coloring her face. She’s so pale that her cheek highlights actually look luminescent. Coran doesn’t look much better, with a droopy moustache and eyebags so big they could be marketed as luxurious goods in Milan’s next fashion show.

 

“We all agreed to try this mind thing because Altean warriors used to do it to strengthen themselves. Confront their inner demons. Know thyself before thy enemy and all that. But then somehow - _somehow_ , Galra tech gets mixed in. And this Galra tech is, of course, corrupted.” Keith feels the urge to put his head in his hands. “How did this happen again?”

 

He doesn’t even remember agreeing to try this mind dreamscape thing. If he’d known it would be _anything_ like what just happened, he would not have tried it. Zero stars for a review, and Keith would suggest tossing the whole thing out of the airlock to be on the safe side. It sucked - _majorly_ \- and he still feels mildly disorientated.

 

Every time he looks to his right, Keith still expects to see his reflection with yellow eyes, checking his nails and buffing them against his shirt as he listens with a bored look on his face.

 

“Well, we - the Galra and us - used to be allies. As you already know.” This is the first time he’s hearing Allura stutter. It’s suddenly a hundred times more convincing that this whole thing was an unplanned accident. Not that he suspected her, or anything, but who knows what ruthless aliens might be doing in their minds to prepare themselves for war?

 

She bites her lip, carefully choosing her words before continuing. “We shared many things. Including our technology. Because bouncing ideas off each other could only lead to faster and better innovation, right? So we gave them our mindwalking code. I’ve never used it myself, because I was far too young when the exchange happened, but I suppose- the Galra must have tampered with it. The war must have already begun by then.”

 

Allura looks devastated. She opens her mouth, and nothing comes out. Coran reaches over to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, and heaves a sigh.

 

“We are terribly sorry, Keith. And Shiro. We truly did not mean for this to happen.” Keith squints as best he can without looking like he’s squinting, and blanches when he sees what looks like tears in Coran’s eyes. He glances at Shiro, who looks as surprised as he does, and decides they’re both wildly unequipped to deal with a crying princess or her second in command.

 

It’s so disconcerting that he almost misses what Coran said. “Wait - Shiro? You too?” His head swivels around so fast he thinks his neck cracks in defiance, eyes wide.

 

Shiro offers a sheepish smile, shrugging. There is nothing to be blase about, Keith thinks incredulously. “You had that entire traumatic experience by yourself? And you woke _up_?!”

 

Maybe Shiro really is the god that the Garrison heralded him as, he muses.

 

“I’ve encountered something similar before,” Shiro admits, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, uncomfortable with Keith’s rapt attention. “Back with the Empire. They liked to see us break down after they forcefully retrieved us from our dreamscapes. So Matt and I figured how to wake up by ourselves.”

 

“That is _horrible_ ,” Allura says miserably, and by god, she is going to _cry_. “Our technology was never created for such a nefarious purpose. I am-” she takes a deep, shuddering breath, “I am trying to work on reversing the process. Or at least come up with a code to interfere with the Galra code running through our systems now, but- but-”

 

“The princess is still young,” Coran finishes, voice heavy with sorrow and regret. “She isn’t as good as she could be with code. And this was not what I majored in. I am of no help either.”

 

He runs a hand across his face, pressing fingers against his temples, and Coran suddenly looks exactly like what Keith imagines a guy ten thousand years past his prime would look like.

 

“Our hands are tied,” he says tiredly, after a while. Allura nods at his side, gaze focusing on something past Keith.

 

Probably the other pods. It gave him a shock to see the three of them, floating aimlessly in the pods with sensors attached to their head in an attempt to monitor their brain activity. He’s never seen anyone look so lifeless.

 

Keith remembers stumbling out of his pod, knees weak, hands pulling uselessly at Coran’s forearms for support, and his breath knocking out of him when he looked around wildly and caught sight of Lance in his pod. Unresponsive. Loose-limbed.

 

As if he was dead.

 

It makes him want to cry too.

 

But he’s already cried enough in his dream and the ache behind his eyes lingers, so Keith sucks it up and leans forward.

 

“So now all we can do is… wait? Or should we dive in too, the same way Shiro did for me?” His eyes dart over to Shiro, brow raising in question, and the man offers him an encouraging smile. “If I _can_ enter their dreams the way Shiro did, of course. Does it require training? Mental power?”

 

“It’s nothing to do with superpowers or magic, if that’s what you’re asking. Just willpower to stay strong and accept your darkness. To see it through and acknowledge it but not succumb to it,” Allura interrupts. Her eyes are suddenly clear and her voice is strong. “I can help.”

 

She makes it sound super easy to escape from your dream world when Keith can vouch for the fact that is very, very difficult.

 

“Princess, I- I’m not sure that is wise; you’ve never experienced such a programme before!” Coran exclaims, hands lifting off Allura’s shoulders in shock. “You could very well get trapped in it too, if you’re not careful. And if it is as terrible as Shiro and Keith make it sound, then this technology is incredibly insidious. You _cannot_ risk yourself.”

 

“I have to,” Allura insists, voice strong. There’s a sharp line of tension running through her back, and it almost looks like it pains her to say this, but she forges on anyways. “It is my fault that this happened. I have to fix it anyway I can. I have to take responsibility.”

 

Keith’s eyes go wide. “You don’t _have_ to,” he says gingerly, freezing when Allura turns those supernova eyes onto him. They’re electric blue, almost blazing with her determination, and he tries not to quail before it. It’s a losing battle.

 

Honestly, he thinks Allura should do whatever she wants, even if he privately thinks she’ll end up as deadweight. But well - whatever, right? If she wants to run headfirst into this potentially dangerous scenario where they may end up trapped inside, it’s her choice.

 

Coran clearly agrees with what he said, if the way he keeps trying to catch Keith’s eye in support says anything. Keith doesn’t blame him. Allura is a princess who lived through the beginning of a war and woke up to see nothing but the aftermath, so who knows what kind of shadows she’s hiding? What if the messed up technology catches her consciousness and latches on to it?

 

There’s something twitching in his peripheral vision. Coran is still trying to convince Allura otherwise, even if the headstrong princess has already made up her mind, and Shiro just quietly watches from the side, refusing to step in. The drama of the whole situation takes Keith a while to decide he can’t ignore that twitching.

 

He turns, and it’s just in time to see Pidge start convulsing in her pod.

 

-=-

 

“I really don’t think it was a good idea for all of us to come,” Shiro says suddenly. It’s a thought Keith agrees wholeheartedly with. Heck, he’s not even sure why he came. He wanted to help, in any way possible, and he was _also_ the one who realised Pidge needed urgent help, but maybe he’s not exactly outfitted for the job.

 

Weak psyche, ability to see that boy in every reflective surface he passes by down the street, and a bravado too big for his shoes. Not exactly a stunning repertoire to bring to the case.

 

Not that Allura has anything particularly impressive to bring. Only Shiro knows what he’s working with. And having two people who may or may not be giant liabilities is - it’s not great.

 

“A little late for that,” Keith replies, shoulders tight with stress as they pass yet another shiny mailbox and he catches a glimpse of yellow eyes glinting back at him. “Why are we here? Where is this?”

 

Allura looks entranced. It looks like a perfectly normal street to Keith, with white picket fences and red mailboxes and large, friendly, neighbourly houses. It looks like something out of an image stolen off the holonet. It doesn’t look like anything Keith is remotely used to, not when he remembers staying in Shiro’s tiny apartment in a high rise building, then the Garrison dorms, _then_ the shack, but it still looks familiar.

 

But Allura hasn’t seen any of it before. It must be a completely foreign view for her, Keith muses, briefly glancing at her as they stride along the empty street. Her shoes click against the gravel and her eyes are shining.

 

“All the houses look the _same_ ,” she says in awe, gaze darting from side to side. “That’s so interesting!”

 

“Is it?” Keith asks, honestly curious. She’s so excited by this whole thing that it’s easy to swept up in her path.

 

“Yes, in Altea, most houses are- oh.” Allura stops abruptly, the light in her eyes dying down. “We should probably focus on the mission, shouldn’t we?”

 

Shiro nods, offering her a comforting smile. “In and out, as quick as possible. There’ll be a bit of static at the beginning when we can’t quite get through to them, but once we get Pidge to see us, it’ll be smooth sailing.”

 

He pauses, smile suddenly becoming strained. “At least, I hope so. It went far better than I thought it would with Keith.”

 

“Probably because you know me so well,” Keith tells him, knocking his shoulder into Shiro’s. He grins up at Shiro, hoping it comes off as confident. “We’ll do fine. You, me, Allura. Dream team, right?”

 

“Dream team!” Allura echoes in delight, a bounce back in her steps. “This is the appropriate time for a fist bump, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro laughs, holding his fist out. She taps it with her own fist experimentally, a light touch that’s barely a fist bump, and Keith demonstrates for her. Slightly harder, a bounce that has a rebound effect.

 

It’s nice to feel happy even when they’re here facing their demons. It feels optimistic.

 

“So…” Keith trails off, looking around him. “Why are we here again? Do you know where this is? You’re walking around like you know what you’re looking for.”

 

He’s barely finished his question when a scream rings out. It’s loud and high, echoing through the empty street and pierces Keith all the way through. His next words die in his mouth and he swallows, a chill running through his body.

 

It’s a voice he would recognise anywhere.

 

“... I’ve been here before,” Shiro says grimly, picking up the pace. They all start hurrying, almost breaking into a sprint as Allura and Keith blindly follow wherever Shiro’s taking them. “Matt lives here.”

 

Oh, Keith thinks blankly, and tries to run faster. _Oh_.

 

The house Shiro stops in front of looks like any other house. It looks _normal_. The sounds coming out of it that reverberate through the eerily quiet roads, however, make him dig his fingernails into his palms on instinct.

 

“We need to get through,” Allura says through grit teeth, and turns to Shiro. She looks terrifying, and Keith is abruptly glad she’s on their side. “Where’s the door? What scanner do I have to break?”

 

“No scanner,” he replies before Shiro can, striding forward to throw a punch at the wooden door standing in between him and Pidge. “Just this thick block of wood.”

 

It doesn’t shake. It stays solid and steady, as if mocking him, and Keith throws his entire body into it, slamming his right shoulder against the door. It rattles against its hinges, briefly, but doesn’t move.

 

“God, you’re pretty weak,” his reflection murmurs from the glint of the mailbox, sunlight reflecting off the shiny surface, and Keith bites his lip.

 

“Try breaking the windows,” Shiro orders, before he takes over, shoving his shoulder against the door as well. He hits it harder than Keith did, the door trembling in its frame, but it still doesn’t break.

 

Allura’s already gathering up thick sticks in a hurry, piling them in a small stack next to the glittering mailbox. She gathers her skirt in her hands, holding them up, and Keith is about to ask what she’s planning to do with _cloth_ , when Allura just- she rips her gown, exposing her knees.

 

“ _What_?!” Keith says dumbly, and the rocks he’s been searching for fall stupidly from his weak fingers. “What?”

 

Shiro isn’t much help. He stops as well, openly gaping at the princess, and she scowls at both of them.

 

“Get to work!” Allura yells, and wraps the spare cloth around her face. “And stay a little farther from me.” Then she- Keith doesn’t know what to think, but the Altean princess picks up the thickest stick she can find and swings into Pidge’s window.

 

The glass shatters with a bright, high sound, shards tinkling as they spill into the air, and Keith almost trips with how fast he backpedals away from the spray. Shiro flattens himself against the door, eyes wide, and they share a brief, commiserating glance.

 

Allura stands firm, one hand thrown up to protect her eyes and she turns around as soon as the shards fall to the ground.

 

“Pidge!” She shouts, and it certainly says a lot that she’s the most coolheaded one in a crisis. Keith gives himself another moment to breathe, to try and process what’s going on, and then he’s jostling Allura at the window, trying to get Pidge’s attention.

 

There are two of them. Of course there’s two of them, Keith thinks to himself, and tries to focus on which is the real one. It’s not hard, not when one of them’s gaze snaps to Keith and Allura, and he catches sight of the familiar yellow eyes.

 

Other Pidge sees him, sees the recognition in his eyes, and her lips tick up.

 

“Wha- there’s really two of them!” Allura gasps, fingers digging into the poor tiny garden at the windowsill. Her fingernails are caked with dirt, and the structure creaks under the strength of her grip. “Pidge, we’re here to help!”

 

She says it desperately, without even knowing what’s going on or who’s the real Pidge. Keith isn’t even sure the real Pidge hears it. But it makes her choke on a sob, wrap her hands around her waist and shake her head furiously.

 

“Don’t,” she forces out, tears dripping down her face, and the sight of her crying turns Keith’s world on its head. He’s never seen Pidge cry. Not when she found Shiro but didn’t find Matt, not when he accused her of valuing her brother over the safety of the world, and not when she lost Rover. She never cried. Not once.

 

He’s struck speechless. Keith has no idea how Shiro found the courage to say anything when he found Keith in tears and reduced to nothing. He doesn’t know what to say-

 

“See?” The Other Pidge remarks casually, eyes glittering with a cruelty he didn’t see in his reflection. “Here they are. Your _new_ family. Must be nice, forgetting about your real family and hanging out with these people.”

 

“I didn’t forget about Matt,” Pidge says, voice weak. It sounds like a plea, shaking through her entire body. “I didn’t forget about my dad. I still- I want- I’m going to _find_ them-”

 

“But with every minute you spend playing hero of space, that’s one minute more of them MIA in space,” Other Pidge points out. She takes a step closer to Pidge, lifting a hand to press it gently against the underside of Pidge’s chin, and tilts her gaze up.

 

Keith wants to yell at the reflection to get her hands off Pidge, but the words are stuck in his throat.

 

“Come on,” Other Pidge croons, voice low with satisfaction. “This is a rehashed argument. We both know the truth. You value this ragtag bunch over your family, and you’ve betrayed your poor mother left back on Earth, all three of her precious family missing in action - you’re a fantastic daughter, Pidge.”

 

“Don’t listen to her.” The words find their way out of Keith’s mouth, and the ferocity he speaks them with surprises even him. “Pidge, don’t _liste_. She’s wrong. You’ll find them, I promise. Pidge, I _promise you_ , you’ll find them.”

 

It’s a very different tune from the one he was singing when she said she wanted to leave Voltron. He can’t explain it - it just never occurred to him how torn up she was over this. To Keith, who’d already found Shiro, he just sort of- he sort of _forgot_ the pain of waiting and waiting and desperately trying to find someone. He’d just been filled with relief and nothing else.

 

“Oh _quiznak_ ,” Allura says, voice a little muffled, and rips the cloth away from her mouth. “Move away from that door, Shiro. Go and help Keith.”

 

Keith turns back just in time to see Allura double in size, roll her sleeves up to her elbows, and start shoving against the door. It creaks alarmingly, and he’s fairly sure she dents it on her first try.

 

“Since when could she do that?” He murmurs heatedly under his breath to Shiro, and the man rolls his eyes, telling him to focus on the job. “Focus,” Keith echoes back, and shakes his head, trying to get back into the right mindset. “You’re right. I need to focus.”

 

“Joining us and trying to save the world doesn’t mean you’re giving up on your family, Pidge,” Shiro calls out, trying to stick his neck in through the window, barely avoiding the remnants of the shards. “Listen, Pidge, I know it sounds bad, but you have to believe in us. Every step we take, every inch we get closer to the Galra is another inch closer to finding your family.”

 

He swallows, voice thick, and Keith suddenly remembers how much Matt means to Shiro. “Matt and your father are out there, Pidge. And I won’t rest until I find them either. You are not giving up on them - you are _not_ replacing them.”

 

There’s a dangerous cracking noise right after that, and Allura heaves one more time, sweat beading against her temples, and the door falls apart beneath her broad shoulders.

 

“You’re absolutely terrifying,” Keith whispers in awe as he ducks below her outstretched arm to hurry into the house. Allura offers him a tired grin, and it quickly turns into steely determination once she makes eye contact with Other Pidge.

 

Pidge curls further into herself when she sees them burst into the living room. There’s real fear in her eyes, and it makes Keith stop in his tracks when she backs up at the sight of them. It’s clear she wants nothing to do with them in this moment - caused by her evil reflection grinning at them or not, Keith has no idea - and he doesn’t know how to even start talking to her.

 

Yelling at her that it’ll be alright through a window feels starkly different from saying it quietly in a living room with a busted down door and broken window.

 

It leaves him feeling relieved when Allura starts the ball rolling.

 

“You have a family,” she says, voice low, but there’s a power trembling through it that makes Keith pay attention. “A family that is still out there, and I know that’s _scary_ , Pidge, because you don’t know when they’ll come back - _if_ they’ll ever come back.”

 

Her voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, and Keith remembers Altea was at war when Allura was forced into the pod.

 

“But we will find them,” Shiro finishes, stepping up to stand next to Allura, shoulder to shoulder. They’re putting up a united defence against the skepticism of Other Pidge, and Keith is just loitering around in the background, uselessly. God, but he doesn’t know what to _say_.

 

He knows what Pidge is feeling. He knows it very, very well, because he recalls faint memories of his mom and his dad and giving up on them to cling to Shiro felt utterly terrible but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It’s about working with the shitty situations they were given and rising above them. It’s about remembering them and working towards them and hoping maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to find Shiro again because he’s _out there_ , damnit.

 

“Pidge,” he says, quietly, softly, and maybe something fizzes out in Other Pidge’s mind because she falls silent for a moment. Her eyes are on him; giant, fluorescent eyes trained on him. For a second, the living room is eerily quiet, and Keith can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest. It’s the exact same feeling when he was looking his reflection straight in the eye, tears blurring his vision.

 

“You will _find_ them, Pidge. You’re out here because it’s your best chance to find them. A team searching for your dad and brother is- we’re a great team, aren’t we?”

 

Keith tries his best to think of something Lance would say, in a situation like this.

 

“We’ll pull through. And we’ll find your dad, and your brother. We’re not giving up on them. _You_ know you’re not giving up on them, don’t you?”

 

Shiro squeezes fingers around his wrist in encouragement. There’s a kind light in his eyes, as if he’s proud of Keith. For what, exactly, Keith isn’t sure.

 

But Pidge breathes, her hyperventilations dying off into something more moderate, the sobs becoming less desperate and her breaths becoming less ragged, and she breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

 

“I’m not,” she agrees, and Other Pidge rolls her eyes, muttering something snide under her voice, but there are wet streaks on her cheeks as a glowing ball of light envelops the room.

 

-=-

 

They take a break after Pidge. An hour doesn’t seem like very long, but Keith spends every second pacing the room, jittery footsteps echoing along the metallic floor as he glances up at Lance every once in a while.

 

Hunk and Lance are still unresponsive, their brainwaves showing tiny spikes every now and then, but no one’s convulsed like Pidge. That means no one’s in as bad a state as Pidge was, when they found her, right?

 

The thought of Lance screaming his throat hoarse like Pidge did in his nightmare sequence makes Keith’s entire body go cold.

 

Thinking about it doesn’t help. He chooses to wander around the ship instead, trying to find Pidge. Keith doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have her be alone after that whole ordeal, but they’re all scattered around the ship and there’s a high chance she’s holed up somewhere in her room.

 

He finds her in the back of the engineering room. Or programming room, whatever it’s called. A huge room filled with wires and flickering screens and numbers running across fluorescent blue walls, and Keith’s eyes hurt just looking at them.

 

“What are you doing?” He asks, gingerly picking his way through the mess of wires on the ground and sitting down in a small empty circle opposite Pidge.

 

She’s fiddling with a screen, fingers flying over the keyboard so quickly they almost become a blur. Her spectacles are dangling from her neck, and she’s so hunched over that they clack against the screen every time she leans forward a little more.

 

Pidge glances up, and Keith’s relieved that he doesn’t see any sort of grimace in her eyes. It’s just determination - a grim sort of determination that pulls at the corner of her eyes and makes her look older than she is.

 

“Trying to hack the Galra code,” she replies, voice hoarse, and Keith fishes for a water bottle in one of his side pockets on his belt. She takes it gratefully, downing it in three large gulps and tossing it into his lap. “It’s not hard, but it’s not easy. It’s - tedious. Very tedious. They knew what they were doing.”

 

“The fact that you can even hack alien tech that’s light years before us is very impressive,” he points out. A short laugh leaves her lips, and the tiny grin at her mouth is born of satisfaction.

 

There’s a short pause in the conversation. Keith rolls his head, stretching his neck and shoulders, and lets his eyes wander around the room. They’re cramped in a tiny corner of it, a piece of land that Pidge’s conquered and claimed as her own, and he blinks up at the high ceiling.

 

“I’m trying to get rid of the lag period between entering the world and asserting your existence in the person’s mind.” Pidge’s voice rings out, and it echoes in the hollow room. “Allura said you walked down the street to my house for a long while, and then you struggled to get me to recognize your presence because of the locked door and stuff. That’s kinda troublesome, so I’m trying to kick it out.”

 

He didn’t think he was being that obvious about wondering what she was doing, typing furiously on that keyboard of hers, but maybe he was. Keith shrugs, looking to the side, and bites his lip.

 

“It did take a while,” he admits. “But I think your reflection could tell we were there.”

 

Her head snaps up. “My- my reflection?” She asks, and her voice trembles.

 

“The thing that looked exactly like you?” Keith asks cautiously, leaning back to give Pidge space to breathe. “Almost a doppelganger, but with yellow eyes and sharper teeth and maybe blended in with the shadows a bit too much?”

 

“Calling them a _reflection_ sounds wrong,” she mutters, but her shoulders sag and she turns back to the screen. “Gives them more credit than they deserve. That _thing_ was just a menace.”

 

Her spectacles catch the glint of the screen and reflect it into Keith’s eyes. “But it recognized you?”

 

“Yeah,” he says. “It glanced over at me and sort of smirked. Or maybe it was trying to look relieved? I’ve seen both expressions on your face and not know what they’ve meant.”

 

“You ass,” she replies, and kicks out at him, her foot colliding sharply with his ankle. “Ow, _god_ , your ankles are way too sharp!”

 

“Lance always complained about that too.” The words escape him before his brain filters through them. They still at the same time, Keith’s face rapidly turning red while Pidge gains a sparkle to her eyes.

 

“Loverboy Lance?” She asks, grinning, and Keith rolls his eyes, trying not to make eye contact while his face grows hot. If she’s distracted while needling him about his non-existent romance, he thinks, eyeing her carefully, then maybe it’ll be worth the embarrassment.

 

-=-

 

They find themselves in a very strange conundrum. Personally, Keith wants Lance out of the pod as soon as possible, but that’s incredibly unfair to Hunk. It’s stupid, but none of them know who to attempt to rescue out first.

 

It takes a while of them standing dumbly before the two pods before someone says something. Pidge raises the excellent point of Hunk being the one who understands Lance best, so having Hunk on their side as they try to sieve Lance out seems like the better choice.

 

Keith doesn’t see why they can’t save Lance _first_ and then use Lance to help Hunk, since their keen understanding of each other is mutual, but his mouth feels numb and he can’t raise the words out of his gut.

 

And no one else has any other opinion, because Shiro picked Keith since he knew Keith best, and they picked Pidge because she looked like she was having a seizure in there, so they decide to go with Hunk.

 

Keith takes a long look at Lance, still gently floating in the pod, bobbing up and down, and swallows tightly before turning to get hooked up to the system.

 

It feels exactly like falling asleep. Like when he’s in a dream, nodding off, and then he falls. The knee-jerk reaction that usually wakes him up instantly, gasping for breath and checking to make sure he’s surrounded by soft cloth and a comfortable bed.

 

He feels a jerk on his right leg - he falls, breathlessly, and tumbles on the glazed wooden tiles lining the ground.

 

“You’re coming with?” Keith groans up at the pale hand that’s thrust into his face. Pidge pulls him up imperiously, pushing her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose, and nods.

 

“Hunk’s _my_ friend,” she says, and he gets it. The Garrison trio altogether, right? Who could fault her for wanting to rescue Hunk?

 

But too many cooks spoil the pot, he thinks, when he sees Allura with Shiro, pressed up against the white double doors that usually separate a kitchen from a restaurant. There are two large circular windows embedded into the doors, and he tries to catch a glimpse from behind Shiro’s gigantic frame.

 

“Move aside,” he complains, shoving Shiro with the corner of his hip. “It’s quiet. Is this really the place?”

 

“I’m just that good,” Pidge tells him, a tease lounging in her voice. But she tiptoes to check, nonetheless, peeking through the window to see if Hunk is inside.

 

And he is. He’s standing next to a countertop where dough is usually kneaded. There’s a large tray of cookies on it, all freshly baked and iced, and he’s popping a few in his mouth as he talks.

 

Hunk’s reflection sits opposite him, in clear view of the four wannabe saviours, and they’re having a perfectly civil conversation. No raised voices, no crying, no begging. They’re just eating cookies and talking.

 

Keith backs away and takes a few deep breaths. This is- entirely unprecedented. He doesn’t know how to proceed.

 

“Is this _supposed_ to happen?” Pidge asks, scrunching her nose up, and Allura echoes her question. “Shouldn’t there be a few waterworks? Screaming? Did I overreact in my shadow world?”

 

“You definitely didn’t overreact,” Keith tells her. “I think Shiro found me in the same state as you. This is-” he waves his hand at the door, barely missing Shiro’s face, “-this is strange.”

 

Pidge stares at him for a while, squinting at him.

 

“What?”

 

She shrugs, turning back to the window. “I was trying to imagine what you would look like while crying. My imagination isn’t strong enough for that. I just pictured Lance throwing water over you and you looking like a wet cat.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” Keith mutters under his breath, knocking his shoulder into Pidge’s. “What a sweet friend.”

 

“I do try,” she replies, dryly, and they both crack up. It’s a comfortable laugh that makes them forget about the absurdity of this situation for a while, but Shiro abruptly decides to knock on the door, and their laughter dies down instantly.

 

“You just _knocked_?” Allura asks, voice high. She’s pulling at Shiro’s wrists, as if to keep them away from the door.

 

Shiro blinks at all of them, and tilts his head slightly towards the door. “We can’t just keep standing out here. And it doesn’t seem like they’re fighting, so I thought maybe knocking would be… a good idea?”

 

Keith wants to bury his face in his palms, but the door opens before he can do that. His head snaps up, and he’s face to face with Hunk. No colored eyes, no weird shadow overlay, no sharp teeth.

 

“What are you guys doing here?”

 

Hunk sounds surprised, but his face quickly transforms into one of the familiar smiles that Keith’s gotten way too used to. He holds the door open, gesturing inside. The reflection even holds a hand up in greeting, mouth full with cookies.

 

They collectively decide to slowly enter the room, eyes darting around furiously to see if there’s anything wrong with the location. Maybe there are flickering lights. Maybe the reflection’s lower half of his body, hidden by the counter, is a mass of smoke. Maybe the cookies are raw.

 

“We wanted to check in on you,” Pidge replies quietly. Her hand reaches out to grip Hunk’s, and he lets her wind her fingers around his. “Are you okay? Is he doing anything to you?”

 

Hunk considers the question. His gaze darts back to his reflection, who waves another time, offering up a jaunty grin, and he shakes his head.

 

“We’ve just been talking. About the good old days in the Garrison and at home!” He beams, and pulls Pidge towards the table. The rest of them hurry to keep up, eyeing the cookies with extreme prejudice.

 

He reaches out, taking another cookie, and offers it to Pidge. She takes it gingerly, smile wobbling on her face as she does not eat it, and Allura steps in front of her so Hunk doesn’t give them the sad puppy-eyes he throws out whenever they don’t eat anything he makes.

 

“Hunk, we wanted to tell you that it’s time to leave this place.” Allura just jumps right into it, Keith thinks dazedly. She doesn’t cut any corners. Just wham, bam, and an instant K.O.

 

At least she’s straight forward. It saves them time and effort. But the confused expression on Hunk’s face doesn’t seem to spell anything good.

 

“Leave?” He trails off into silence, brows furrowing together. “...Why would I want to leave?”

 

Shiro inhales sharply. Keith’s gaze instantly cuts to him, probing for answers, and Shiro shakes his head minutely. A tiny gesture, missed by Hunk, but not missed by the reflection. Other Hunk’s smile grows slightly, and Keith can see the sharp incisors.

 

It’s somehow even scarier when this _thing_ wears Hunk’s face. Sweet, friendly, reliable Hunk with yellow eyes and a slow smile makes Keith want to run away.

 

“Some shadows can convince you to stay, instead of trapping you in there.” Shiro’s voice is soft, barely carrying over the air, and both Keith and Allura lean in to listen. “It’s worse, because it’s entirely voluntary.”

 

Keith glances over at the two Hunks, and Pidge is looking decidedly uncomfortable, trying to hide her tiny frame behind Hunk’s.

 

“Hunk, can we talk? Privately?” If this entire situation is so civil, it shouldn’t be weird for Keith to casually pull Hunk aside to talk, right?

 

Hunk blinks at him. “Hm? Why would-”

 

“Please,” Other Hunk interrupts brightly. Keith can almost fool himself into thinking he’s friendly. “You can just say it here. We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

 

Well then, Keith decides, moving slightly closer to Shiro. Plan B.

 

“The shadow system has been corrupted by Galra tech, and they’re conspiring to keep us here for an indefinite amount of time, while our bodies exist in a coma in the physical world.” He says it in a rush, eyes darting between Hunk and Other Hunk. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Other Hunk tries to attack, claiming Keith is slandering his good name. He isn’t sure if he’ll be able to fight someone that looks like Hunk.

 

“You need to leave this place, Hunk,” Pidge adds on, pulling at his hand, trying to get him to move towards Keith and gang. “It’s dangerous here.”

 

“We’re just eating cookies,” Other Hunk points out. “Not very _dangerous_. And Hunk’s all for staying, because he’s tired of the entire Voltron thing. Entirely of his own free will, mind you.” He pops another cookie into his mouth, and the single fluorescent light above the counter flickers.

 

 _Tired_ of Voltron? What- does Hunk actually want to quit? Because he’s _tired_ of it? That can’t be right. Hunk, the most selfless guy Keith has ever met, deciding to forgo the opportunity to help save the world? What a joke-

 

“Yeah,” Hunk says sheepishly, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Sorry, guys. I don’t think I’m that cut out for it, after all.”

 

The gasp that leaves Allura’s lips is so quiet that Keith almost misses it. He takes a peek at her, and she looks devastated. Almost on the verge of tears, actually.

 

Shiro steps forward. “This isn’t like you, Hunk.”

 

Hunk looks at his reflection for a long while, before he shrugs and faces Shiro. “He raised some good points. Joining Voltron has been fun and all, but I just… miss the Garrison. Being back on the ground. Engineering always had a clear answer, you know? Fighting the Galra doesn’t. There’s no clear end.”

 

He scuffs his show against the ground, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just easier - and _safer_ \- not being with Voltron.”

 

Other Hunk nods, and the crunch of a cookie in his mouth seems deafening in the silence that follows after Hunk’s admission. “I’d say that’s an extremely logical thought progression. Nothing wrong with a healthy amount of common sense and self-preservation.”

 

“Exactly!” Hunk grins, jerking his thumb at his reflection. “See? He gets it. It’s just common sense.”

 

This is the worst train of common sense Keith has ever heard. It’s- okay, fine, he isn’t about to tear it apart and say it’s completely unfounded, because the Garrison trio were sort of pulled into this whole thing against their collective will. It started as an accident, and it continued as a string of accidents until they ended up as the frontline in this war.

 

“But you’ve always wanted to help people,” Pidge says suddenly. There’s something sharp in her eyes, and her voice sounds heavily judgmental. There might also be a bit of desperation worked into it, Keith realises. “Like with helping Shay, saving Balmera, fighting off the Galra - you’re making an actual difference in the world with the power that _you_ have, Hunk. You love it, that’s what you’ve always said!”

 

“Maybe he likes having a life more,” Other Hunk interjects, raising an eyebrow. “Voltron is a dangerous job. And you all seem to have it covered. _We_ ,” he points a finger at himself, before pointing it at Hunk- “prefer to have pleasant, simple, lives.”

 

What does he mean by them having it covered without Hunk? He’s one of the legs of Voltron. They can’t form Voltron without him. Shouldn’t that be argument enough that Hunk is an essential member of the team?

 

It takes him a while to realize the words slipped out of him without his knowledge. Keith turns a little red, but he curls his fingers into fists and stares Other Hunk in the eye. “I’m right, aren’t I? We need Hunk. He’s a critical member of Voltron.”

 

“Keith is right,” Allura adds, and Hunk takes a step back at the intensity of her gaze. “You are a valued member of Voltron. The Yellow Lion chose you and you alone, Hunk. She does not choose her champions lightly.”

 

Hunk swallows and looks to the ground. “Well, she didn’t even _have_ any other possible candidates to choose from.”

 

“We have held galaxy wide searches for the Lions’ paladins before. There have been times where she has refused every single candidate, and there have been times where she even sought out her own.” Allura speaks with the confidence of someone who’s seen the ceremony a thousand times. She’s probably only seen it once or twice, but that’s far more experience than any of them. “It doesn’t matter if there aren’t any other candidates, Hunk. She saw you, she judged you, and she deemed you worthy.”

 

Red probably chose him because she was desperate and also took pity on him for being airlocked, Keith thinks grimly. It’s not like he was instantly allowed access to her. He can’t change that much in the few seconds she took to suddenly decide she wanted him as a paladin.

 

He stifles the sigh in his throat, and tries to focus on the situation. At its core, this is just Hunk being insecure about his position, isn’t it? And Other Hunk managed to twist the whole thing into some sort of narrative where it’s better if Hunk just didn’t come back.

 

“Remember what we spoke about,” Other Hunk reminds warningly, and Hunk seems to hunch in on himself. He’s dropped Pidge’s hand by now, standing close to the counter, and he isn’t meeting any of their eyes. “You don’t know what will happen out there in space. Someone in the team came very close to dennouncing another member just because they had different priorities, remember?”

 

His gaze lands on Keith, eyes glittering, and Keith cringes. There’s nothing he can say to defend himself. He was short-sighted and stupid.

 

“And there’s a lot of unpredictability about space and war. Can we trust ourselves to make the right decision, every time? Can we say we’ll never leave one of our friends behind just to save our own skin? Anything can happen, and we won’t always be the good guys.”

 

“You’re wrong.” Shiro’s voice is steady. “We trust in ourselves to make the right decision, and we trust in each other to keep us in check. We’re a team. You don’t have to hold the burden of a decision on your shoulders, Hunk. That’s what a team is for.”

 

Other Hunk face distorts at Shiro’s quick rebuttal. The kitchen doesn’t seem quite so well-lit anymore. Everything else has been cast into shadow, and only the countertop is still under a spotlight.

 

“Believe in us, Hunk,” Keith throws out. He doesn’t really know what else to say, because Shiro seems to have encapsulated everything extremely well. Does Other Hunk listen to reason?

 

Hopefully he does, Keith thinks, keeping a careful eye on him. The previous shadows have all listened with varying degrees of attention - alright, so his sample size only consists of two examples, but they’re all he’s got.

 

“We rely on each other, don’t we? I know you’ve always got my back. And I’ve got yours.” He takes a step forward, and grips Hunk’s wrist, squeezing tightly. “We’re a team. We make decisions together. And we can trust in each other to help us decide on the right decision as a team.”

 

Hunk drops his chin to touch his chest, keeping his eyes downturned as he brings the back of his hand up to rub at the corner of his eyes. His hand comes away wet, and Keith squeezes Hunk’s wrist again.

 

Somehow, seeing people at their lowest really brings out the concerned mother hen in Keith. He didn’t think that version of him existed, but seeing Hunk be so filled with self-doubt, or even seeing Pidge shiver with hushed sobs - he can’t help but want to _do_ something about it.

 

Other Hunk is quiet, fingers steepled together as he rests his chin on them. His elbows are pressed against the countertop, and he eyes Keith carefully.

 

“You’re more talkative than I remember,” he says, unblinkingly. Then he breaks into a smile that looks too friendly for comfort, and Other Hunk laughs lightly. “That’s not a bad thing, Keith.”

 

“Shut up,” Keith mumbles back, and he jolts in surprise when his voice seems to echo from somewhere else. Something reflective, something reflective- His gaze lands on a shiny, chrome-plated toaster, right next to the plate of cookies that are quickly growing cold, and his reflection stares back at him again, defiantly.

 

He makes a face at it, and his reflection gives him the same face back in return.

 

Back to the matter at hand, he reminds himself. Hunk looks more convinced, but he doesn’t move from his spot when Keith tugs at his wrist, so Keith decides to pull out the biggest gun in his arsenal.

 

“Lance is still trapped in his own world, you know? We’re not sure if we can pull him out. We weren’t sure if we could pull any of ourselves out, but we still tried. We need you to help us, Hunk. The team all together again.”

 

The mention of Lance jerks Hunk out of his daze. “He’s still inside?”

 

“He’s in a forced coma,” Allura replies, voice soft. “It’ll turn into a real coma soon, if we don’t manage to get him out.”

 

“What? Then we’ve got to get him out!” Hunk exclaims with his reflection, moving towards Shiro and Pidge, before they stop. Other Hunk freezes, slamming both hands across his mouth, and immediately sits back down.

 

Hunk looks at him for a long moment, and pushes the tray of cookies closer to Other Hunk. “I have to get Lance out. He’s my best bud, you know? I can’t stay right now.”

 

His reflection blows out a sigh, entire body heaving with the effort, and he’s the least aggressive shadow Keith’s ever met. It’s almost relieving to be faced with someone like him.

 

“Yeah,” Other Hunk says exasperatedly, exhaling sharply. “I know.”

 

The lightbulb above trembles. “We’ll take care of you,” Keith says suddenly. He doesn’t know where it came from, but it just seemed like something both Hunks needed to hear.

 

Other Hunk laughs, and his yellow eyes glitter with a muted humor. “I know you will, Keith.”

 

There’s a pop, a loud snap, and the light explodes.

 

-=-

 

For once, Keith isn’t ashamed to say he spends a long time in front of Lance’s pod, just staring at him float aimlessly. He used to just take a quick look before moving away, not wanting to be caught staring at Lance, but now he really doesn’t care that much.

 

Maybe it’s because Hunk is next to him, eyes quietly trained on Lance’s body as well.

 

“When are we going in?” He asks, reaching out to knock on the glass double-wall.

 

Keith immediately reaches out a hand to push Hunk’s fist down. “Don’t disturb his body,” he replies. “We don’t know what’s going on inside. Just- don’t touch him.”

 

He stares at Lance’s closed eyes for a while longer, how the suspended fluid makes him look paler than he really is, and shrugs. “We’re going in soon. I think Allura needs a break, so we’re just… chilling?”

 

A silence falls over both of them for a moment. “You really like him, don’t you?”

 

Keith whips around, eyes wide, and his mouth drops open. “What? _What?_ ” He can feel his entire body tensing up, shoulders reaching the bottom of his ears. “Hunk?!”

 

It makes Hunk laugh, putting both hands up in a show of surrender. “It’s not hard to notice it, you know? There’s like, six of us in the castle. It’s easy to see who you stare at the most.”

 

“I stare off into the _distance_ ,” Keith insists, folding his arms across his chest. “It just so happens that maybe the distance happens to overlap with Lance’s form every now and then. It’s a coincidence.”

 

Hunk grins, taking a step back from the pod. “I think it’s cute.”

 

“It is _not_ cute. It’s not even true.”

 

Was he that obvious? Was it the staring at Lance’s pod? Maybe he really should have stuck with his original tatic of taking a peek and then walking away.

 

Hunk side-eyes him, and breaks into laughter. “You’re super red right now.”

 

“ _Stop it_ ,” Keith rebuts, and he’s not afraid of admitting that there’s a bit of a whine in his voice. “I’m naturally red.”

 

“You’re naturally paler than me, and that says a lot.” Pidge’s voice echoes behind him, and they both whip around to be faced with an unimpressed face. “Arguing over Keith’s crush? Now? When we could be planning for how to get Lance out?”

 

“It’s not like we know what we’ll be facing in his world,” Keith points out. He absentmindedly presses his palms to his cheeks - is he that red? Shiro always told him he blushes easily, but that can’t be true, right? “Not like we can prepare for something we don’t know.”

 

Pidge makes a disgruntled face, before putting both hands in her hair and messing it up. “I just- I want to do something. Prepare for something. Is it normal for him to just not move at all, like that?”

 

“I was like that before you came to get me, wasn’t I?” Hunk pauses, and taps a finger at his chin. “About that, why did you choose me first?”

 

Keith and Pidge share a glance. There is absolutely no reason at all. “Pidge said she wanted to, and no one else had an opinion.”

 

“Also, the pods were in that order. So if we moved down the line, it would be you next.”

 

Hunk grimaces, a choked off laugh stuttering in his throat. “That’s it?”

 

“Is there a better reason?” Pidge raises an eyebrow, as if daring Hunk to contradict her. Keith is staying out of this, even if it’s just friendly banter.

 

“Well…” Hunk looks at Lance again. “I guess I could help with Lance. Even if I think Keith would be reason enough for him to leave the world.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Hm, you might be right.” Pidge looks Keith up and down, and grins. “Lance will take one look at Keith, his knight in shining armor, and just get swept off his feet and back into the normal world!”

 

“No!” Keith yells, frantically waving his hands in front of him to disrupt whatever sort of thought bubbles they’re creating in their minds. “That won’t happen. At all.”

 

It _would_ be nice, though, a traitorous voice whispers in the back of Keith’s mind. And being teased about having Lance be head over heels for him is- it’s nice. Undeniably nice. It makes something strange flutter in Keith’s stomach, and it feels like he’s a bit out of breath just hearing about it.

 

“Happen or not, we’re going in soon.” Pidge informs the both of them. “Coran just finished doing the check he _insists_ on conducting every time Allura leaves the shadow world.”

 

“Good,” Keith says. “We can leave whenever they’re ready.”

 

He presses the flat of his palm against Lance’s pod. It’s cold to the touch.

 

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Hunk tells him encouragingly, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s. “Come on, Pidge says entering the other world feels a lot like what she imagines falling into Wonderland feels like.”

 

Pidge isn’t wrong, Keith thinks, and follows behind Hunk.

 

-=-

 

Lance is decidedly not happy to see them.

 

Somehow, with Pidge fiddling around even more with the wires and messing them up to possibilities unknown, they’ve managed to get through to Lance’s consciousness. It’s been pulled out of his dreamscape, with sanity returned to it, but-

 

He’s strangely uncooperative. Lance is standoffish, scowling furiously at them as he wraps his arms around himself, and Keith’s almost getting whiplash from this person in front of them.

 

“Look, I don’t need you interfering, okay?” Lance’s voice is full of annoyance, and it scratches harshly at Keith’s ears. He’s never heard Lance speak with so much derision. It’s almost as if they’re speaking to his shadow, instead of him.

 

Keith glances briefly at Pidge, and murmurs a question.

 

Her jaw is clenched and she worries at her bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know,” she sighs after a while, shoulders tight with tension. “I don’t think I pulled out the wrong Lance, but I’ve never seen him so aggressive. At us.”

 

“Lance, we’re concerned. Everyone here can vouch that these shadows are far worse than expected. They dig deep into your insecurities and do terrible things to your mind.” Allura attempts to reason with him, taking a step forward. To Keith’s surprise, Lance takes a step back, as if he doesn’t want Allura to close in on him.

 

That can’t be Lance, Keith thinks immediately. Lance wouldn’t back away from Allura even on the threat of death. He likes Allura, doesn’t he?

 

Hunk looks so upset he could almost be in tears. His arms hang limply by his side, as if he’s at a loss on how to proceed, and Keith really feels bad for the guy. It probably feels- feels bad, he guesses, like a tidal wave churning in his gut, to see a best friend act like he doesn’t care at all.

 

“I can handle it, okay? I don’t need all of you to come in and save me. You always do that,” Lance shoots back, frustration wrenching through his voice. “All of you always come diving in to save the day and I’m just here in the background getting saved or watching the saving happen.”

 

“Buddy, I don’t want to see you _suffer_ ,” Hunk finally says, and Keith also wants to back away at the sight of literal tears in his friend’s eyes. He has no idea how to deal with crying individuals. “If we can pull you out right now, or if we can help and make it easier for you, can’t you just let us?”

 

“I can _handle myself_ ,” Lance tells them all, biting the words out through clenched teeth.

 

His gaze suddenly lands on Keith, and something twists strangely in his chest. “Well, too bad,” Keith replies harshly, rising up to throw the same aggression back at this person he doesn’t recognize. Is this what Lance has been hiding inside of him all this while? “We’re coming with you in case you get too far over in your head.”

 

Lance blinks, his eyes gleaming at Keith, and the ground lurches below their feet.

 

They find themselves on a beach. A cerulean ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see, and a gentle wind rustles against the grains of golden sand pooled at their feet. The sun hangs high in the sky, pouring generous, furious heat down on them and Keith can feel strands of hair sticking to the back of his neck.

 

The first person he looks for is Lance. His gaze passes quickly over the rest, doing a messy headcount to ensure they’ve all arrived safely, but his eyes search for Lance.

 

Lance stares out at the open sea, his head tilted slightly upwards to catch the sun’s glow on his cheeks, and his lips are pressed tightly together, as if forced to face a problem he’s tried to hide away deep in his mind.

 

He glances back, catching Keith’s gaze on him, and hurriedly turns away. There’s a house a little distance away, balanced steadily on thick wooden stilts to remain untouched by the waves lapping at the sand.

 

Lance takes a shaky step towards it, his shoe sinking into the sand, before he kicks off into a mad run. It startles Keith, but he recovers quickly and dashes after him. He briefly notes that everyone else is following his lead, chasing after Lance and trying to figure out what sort of importance that house must hold for their sharpshooter, but Keith thinks he already knows.

 

He remembers a conversation with Lance, talking about how they were constellations away from their homes, about the things they missed and the things they thought they wouldn’t miss, but did. Keith didn’t think he would miss the desert, hot and arid, but he does. He misses the way he could scream out loud and receive a full minute of echoes rebounding back at him.

 

Lance missed the ocean kissing his ankles, the seashells lining the balcony of his room, the algae that had gathered on the wooden stilts his house was built on.

 

To him, Lance’s desperate racing to that lonely house by the sea looks a lot like homesickness.

 

There’s a figure standing on the porch, leaning against the railings and waving brightly at them. His shadow stretches out on the wooden floor, merging with the dark lines on the tiles, and Keith can’t tell where his shadow begins or ends.

 

Other Lance grins at them, waggling his fingers in greeting as his yellow eyes glint in the sunlight, and it’s jarring how this Lance looks more like the person Keith knows than the real one right now.

 

When he catches up to them, the two Lances are staring each other down. The one with fluorescent eyes is smiling, his sharp teeth barely visible, and the other one has a dark shadow across his face.

 

“I really didn’t expect all of you to show up!” Other Lance beams brightly, turning to look each of them in the eye. His shoulders are loose, markedly different from the way tension runs a stiff line down Lance’s back. “That’s great, though! I can show you our old place, teach you how to surf, and even-”

 

Lance makes a derisive noise at the back of his throat, and his abrasiveness unsettles Keith in a way he can’t describe. It’s as if Lance is a frayed rope, unravelling at the edges, and Keith can’t braid him back together quickly enough.

 

“Cut it out.” Irritation swells up in Lance’s voice, and everyone watches with twisted expressions on their faces as their friend scowls at his reflection. “They’ve already told me you’re here to ‘test me’, or whatever.” He gestures with finger quotations, rolling his eyes so heavily that Keith sees the pale whiteness of his eyes.

 

If he squints, Lance’s eyes actually look faintly tinged with red. Like he’s been rubbing at them too harshly. It looks like the aftermath of crying.

 

He’s tempted to reach out and take Lance’s hand. Keith really doesn’t understand what’s going on, because Other Lance is being deceptively nice and Real Lance is being strangely standoffish. Other Keith just went straight into tearing his heart out instantly, so he’s confused by this weird push and pull happening between the two of them.

 

Lance presses his lips together, so tightly it looks painful. “Look, let’s just get this over with, okay? They said you’re going to-” he swallows, throat working furiously, and his voice trembles slightly on the next few words, “-you want to drag out my insecurities one by one and make me confront them. So have at it. Let’s get this over and done with.”

 

“ _They_ said?” Other Lance lights up. The shadows on his face lengthen into something Keith is afraid to look at directly. There’s a strange sort of viciousness in his eyes, like Lance just walked into a trap.

 

Like Lance just walked into his own trap and is just lying down, waiting for death.

 

Other Lance reaches out to cup Lance’s face. The world shakes, and Keith suddenly sees claws overlaying Other Lance’s thin fingers. He blinks again, and Other Lance is gently gripping Lance’s face, holding him in position. There are no claws, but if Keith squints, he thinks he can see strange indents on Lance’s cheekbones where Other Lance’s fingertips can’t reach.

 

“Lance,” the shadow says gleefully. “That’s exactly the point. Look around you, everyone keeps _saying_ things.” Lance stiffens sharply, tension racing down the line of his back. “Everyone has the answers except for pretty old you. Can’t you see? You’re pretty much useless.”

 

Hunk gears up, fingers curling into tight fists as he angrily stares down Other Lance. “That’s not true,” he says fiercely, brows furrowing as he steps forward. “Don’t say that about Lance. He’s an important part of the team. We all value him. We want him on the team!”

 

“Do you really?” Other Lance asks dryly, and Keith can see Lance tightening his jaw. “What empty words. You know exactly what to say to make me feel good about myself.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Pidge interjects, her voice trembling as she stares at Other Lance. There’s a twisted expression on his face, something dark and dangerous leaking at the edges, and Keith can see Pidge visibly shaking.

 

It’s different now that they actually know what they’re dealing with. Shadows are the darkest part of their hearts, bitter and cruel and merciless, and to think that Lance actually thinks of himself in this way- that Lance, the one guy that Keith can always count on to cheer him up, _genuinely_ thinks he’s useless-

 

Keith blinks furiously, and he’s surprised by the wetness in his eyes.

 

“It’s not much of a stretch to imagine. Look at all of you. Allura, with a destiny to fulfill. Shiro, the idol of the Garrison. Hunk, the chef extraordinaire and Pidge, the tech giant.” Other Lance turns slowly, locking eyes with Keith, and his face splits into a jagged smile. “And Keith. The boy who had it all. The shining star of our batch who never gave me a second thought.”

 

Lance is standing very, very still, listening to all the rubbish that is spewing from Other Lance’s mouth, and he isn’t defending himself. He stands with his head bowed, his gaze directed to the ground, and his lips are harshly pressed together.

 

“Lance, you know that’s not true-”

 

“Shut up.” Shiro’s voice gets cut off, and Lance looks up, angry tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. He’s shaking, his entire body radiating sharp tension, and Keith wants to- he wants it to stop. He doesn’t recognise this Lance before him, anger spilling out from the seams and making him vibrate with pain.

 

Keith wants to tug him out of Other Lance’s arms and whisk him away back to safety. He wants to alleviate whatever pain is tearing at Lance’s heart and rub those tears away. “Lance, please, this is what he does. He gets in your head and messes with it. Don’t listen to what he’s saying, okay?”

 

“And listen to you instead?” Lance rolls his eyes viciously, shaking his head and stepping closer to Other Lance. “It’s just- you’re all _so_ perfect. You have everything going for you. Each of you have your own little niches and I’m just, what, comedic effect? Here to bring out the laughs?” He breaks into a self-deprecating smile and Keith’s heart aches.

 

It’s difficult to put it into words. Lance gives him something the entire squad could never give him. Cheering people up isn’t - _shouldn’t_ \- be something that he looks down on. Without Lance, there would be no morale. They would have all given up months ago and just waited for death to claim them in space.

 

Lance makes him happy. Shiro just makes him feel intensely relieved, because he’s been chasing that man’s silhouette for so long, but Lance makes him _happy_. It’s something no one else can give him.

 

“You too. All of you.” Lance rounds on all of them, eyes blazing with bitter vehemence. “Stop patronising me! You always say I’m important, that you _need_ me there, that I’m a valuable member of the team - I’m not! I’m really, _really_ not.” His voice breaks on the last word as he hunches in on himself, and Other Lance pats him on the back in a mockery of comfort.

 

Other Lance is relishing this, Keith can tell. His eyes glitter brilliantly in the shadows falling from the roof. There are dark, deep lines on his face, and when he grins, he looks like a monster.

 

Keith immediately knows he will be having nightmares of this creature for months.

 

“You see? You all thought that coming here together would be good, putting up a united front or whatever, but news flash! Too many cooks spoil the broth, and the power of friendship doesn’t exist.” Keith doesn’t need to turn around to see the expressions on everyone’s face. He knows they’re all brimming with fury, desperation pulling at their sides as they try to stare down this menace of a shadow.

 

The gap between them suddenly seems insurmountable. “Look at all of you, gathering here. Can’t you see you’re just giving me more targets? I can list every single one of Lance’s flaws in comparison to all of you.” Other Lance leans towards Lance again, reaching up to pat his face lightly. “If there weren’t so many of you, if you weren’t so goddamn _talented_ , then maybe we wouldn’t be paling in comparison so terribly. You could probably leave us behind right now and carry on your merry way, and it wouldn’t make a lick of a difference.”

 

He bites out the last sentence, his voice a painful scrape against Keith’s ears. “No,” he says abruptly, clenching his jaw. “You’re wrong. You’re blinded by your insecurities to see how much we value you.”

 

Allura immediately catches on to what he’s trying to do, and she pushes forward, nodding vigorously. “Lance, I know it may seem like petty comfort, but you were chosen for a reason. Boosting morale is far more important that you give it credit for. And you aren’t just here for that! You’re a brave, kind soul, and we all see that.”

 

“You have good people skills,” Shiro adds on loudly. They don’t even bother to look at Other Lance as they speak, just desperately trying to catch Lance’s eyes. “You connect with people. You talk to them, you understand them- that’s something not all of us can do. That’s something many of us struggle to do, but it comes to you naturally.”

 

Hunk smiles, a tired lift of his lips, and his voice is a quiet plea. “Come on, buddy,” he says softly, raising his shoulders in a hapless shrug. “Who’s keeping all of us sane? You’re my buddy. You’re irreplaceable.”

 

Lance’s shoulders are shaking. His eyes dart rapidly from one person to another, pupils trembling as he bites on his bottom lip. There’s disbelief in his eyes, strong and pulsing, and Keith wants to knock it out of him.

 

He’s bad with words. Always has been, always will be. He doesn’t know how to explain how much Lance means to him. How important Lance is. If Lance could tear his chest open and see everything within, then maybe Lance would finally wake up and see how vital he is to the team. And how vital he is to Keith’s continued happiness.

 

“You’re like a brother I never had,” Pidge says, and her voice shakes like a leaf in the wind. “When Matt went missing, you were there for me every step of the way.” She looks up, eyes wide, and Lance flinches at whatever he sees in her gaze.

 

Other Lance is silent, but he worries at his bottom lip and takes a step behind Lance’s body.

 

Everyone has said their piece. It collides in a quiet, heartfelt plea for the happy boy they never knew was suffering. They ask for him to see his self-worth. They ask for him to let them show him how much he means to them.

 

Lance turns to Keith’s silent form, and raises an eyebrow weakly. “No sweet words for me, Keith?” He jokes weakly, and Keith startles, swallowing quickly. What can he say to appeal to Lance? How does he explain that he’s bursting from the seams with affection for him? Keith wants to wrap him up in a hug and never let go.

 

“You won’t ever be left behind,” he says finally. There is a kindred spirit lingering between the two of them. They have the same sort of horrified fear that someone will leave them behind. Keith wanted the chance to be vulnerable in front of someone else, and Lance didn’t want his vulnerability to be exposed. But they want the same thing. To have someone who wouldn’t leave them no matter what they do.

 

He takes one step towards them, climbing up the front porch, and stands in front of Lance. Other Lance is slightly behind, eyes wide and mouth open, and he looks as shocked as Lance does at Keith’s approach.

 

Keith reaches out to take Lance’s hand. It’s cold and clammy, sweaty to the touch, and Lance’s gaze instantly drops down to stare blankly at their joined hands. Keith reaches out with his other hand, brushing against Other Lance’s hand- it touches something strange, almost like static and for a moment Keith doesn’t think he’ll be able to grip Other Lance’s hand, but then it solidifies. He tightens his grip, and Other Lance jolts, his hand spasming in Keith’s hold.

 

“I won’t leave you,” Keith says quietly. It’s a promise to be heard only by the two of them. He doesn’t know what sort of expression the rest of the team must be making at this embarrassing move, but Keith finds he doesn’t care. “It’ll be okay, Lance. I promise, it’ll be okay.”

 

“Sometimes it feels like I’m holding you all back,” Lance replies, voice just as soft, and his free hand reaches up to swipe messily at his eyes. Their heads are bowed, standing so close to each other that personal space is simply an afterthought. Other Lance stares at Keith’s proximity, and visibly swallows.

 

Keith squeezes both their hands. “How can you be the one holding us back when I’m so emotionally stunted?” He murmurs laughingly, and both Lances crack a weak smile. “C’mon, Lance. Let’s go home.”

 

He peers behind Lance’s shoulders, meeting Other Lance’s eyes, and offers him a smile. Other Keith wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t evil personified or anything. He was just a dark part of his brain that wanted the best for him, even if it was a pretty terrible and emotionally harrowing experience.

 

This Lance was probably the same.

 

“I’ll take care of him,” he says to Other Lance. “Let me take him back.”

 

Other Lance stares at him for a long, long while, and gives a single, stiff nod.

 

-=-

 

Keith finds Lance on the observation dock. Lance sits right next to the window, looking at the mess of constellations spinning around him, and his face is still streaked with tears. Keith approaches him slowly, making his footsteps loud enough for Lance to hear, and sits down next to him.

 

“Hey,” he says, and crosses his legs. The stars are brilliant in space. It’s almost as if they shine more than usual from up close.

 

Lance doesn’t look at him. He sighs deeply, and rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “Hey.”

 

They sit in silence for a while. Lance stares out of the thick glass window, and Keith waits patiently next to him. The quiet hum of the castle fills the air.

 

“Was it embarrassing when Shiro found you?” Lance asks suddenly. They had briefly caught him up on what had happened, and then left him to his own devices. Keith was the one who went to seek him out after an hour. He didn’t want Lance to be stewing in his mind alone.

 

Keith thinks about it, and shrugs casually. “Shiro’s seen me cry before. But it was still embarrassing.” He turns slightly, catching more of Lance’s profile in his eyes. The light from the stars cast a glow on Lance’s face, and Keith’s heart skips a beat.

 

He hurriedly turns back. “I kind of wish I was last, though.”

 

“You wish you were last?” Lance asks in surprise, turning around. “But then everyone would have seen! God, I wish I were the first.”

 

“Really?” Keith blinks in confusion, and straightens. “Well, it’s like… I’m not good at words. Or explaining things. If everyone had seen the showdown between me and my shadow thing, then I wouldn’t have to explain it now. Which- it was a _showdown_ , okay. Not as drastic as Pidge’s, but there was like, flickering lights, trembling walls, the entire works.”

 

“I want to trust people. And showing them my vulnerability is showing that I trust them. It’s proving to myself that I trust them, I guess.” Keith sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s difficult to explain. See? I’m terrible at it!”

 

Lance looks at him, and laughs. The sound bubbles out of him and spills into Keith’s ears. Keith drinks in the sound like a parched man. He didn’t realise he was so worried for Lance but hearing that sound- it eases an ache he didn’t know he had in his heart.

 

“You’re very different from me, then. I hate being vulnerable in front of people. I cry _so_ easily from embarrassment, okay? Like, if I’m on the track doing compulsory runs and I trip and fall, the shame can _actually_ make me tear up.”

 

Keith sits up properly, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

 

Lance nods, grinning as he rolls his eyes. “You just never paid attention. Or if I messed up in the simulations, I would be faking my bravado and being all cool, but I was seriously ready to cry.”

 

Keith puffs out his cheeks, biting his lip in an attempt not to laugh, and Lance pokes him in the ribs. “I can tell you want to laugh! Just laugh, I know it’s pretty funny.”

 

The laugh escapes him like air from a deflating balloon. He brings up a hand to cover his mouth, muffling the sounds on the back of his glove, and Lance huffs out a laugh at the sight.

 

“Well, if you want to talk about it - you know, whatever happened back in your world or whatever, I’m right here.” His hand reaches out and tangles around Keith’s. Keith looks down in surprise and mild alarm, his heart going a thousand beats a minute. Lance’s hand is terribly, terribly warm.

 

Lance looks up at him, smiling, and Keith can’t help but smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


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